On the Other Side
by Ygrain33
Summary: The years when Connor Shepard wasn't exactly a book officer seemed long gone, until he found himself resurrected into another life by Cerberus, and on top of it, falling for the most improbable woman: a crazy biotic with a criminal record more extensive than her tattoos. Jack-Shepard romance, from both PoVs. A series of drabbles, hopefully chronological. Rated for Jackisms.
1. Among the Lost

Seeing the supposedly prospective team member, Shepard seriously doubts the Illusive Man's sanity. Sure, he has read the dossier. Sure, he knew that the person had a long criminal record and probably wouldn't be easy to get on with. Sure, the display of biotic powers was more than impressive.

Except that the angry knot of biotics, skinny limbs, tattered clothes, extensive tattoos and leather… harness… seems so deranged that she might actually be nearing normalcy from the other side. – Ah yes, _she_, despite the name.

Probably.

There's definitely nothing feminine about her, and the quick glimpse of the Sleeping Beauty in the cryo must have been someone else. The lips have lost their fullness as they are twisted and baring teeth, there is only a mild swell to the chest under the leather straps, she stands crouched with her fists balled, her biotic aura glowing – Shepard suddenly finds in himself a certain degree of understanding for the recently demised Warden Kuril to keep Jack in cryogenic stasis. He would have done the same, though preferably in a mental institution. With very, very thick walls.

To his right, he hears Garrus producing subvocal sound, unmistakably signifying amusement; to his left, Taylor slightly shuffles and clears his throat.

_Yeah, sure. If we don't take her along, we have just blown a prison ship and released dozens of dangerous criminals for nothing._

He sighs. _Time to pull a Shepard – provided that she can be reasoned with._

He feels no little relief when it turns out that yes, she can.

As her face relaxes from the furious expression, her eyes are no longer narrowed. They are, in fact, large and deep brown and, surprisingly, very beautiful.

With hindsight, he realizes that he was lost as early as then.


	2. More Than Bargained For

"You promised her _what_?"

If for nothing else but the glorious rare sight of Lawson totallybeside herself, the crazy convict's presence has turned out invaluable, and Shepard savours every moment.

Sprawling on the chair while chewing on an energy bar – sixth or seventh after they left the Purgatory, and by the looks of her, definitely not the last – Jack sneers, not bothering to swallow first: "You heard, bitch. Your precious Cerberus files about me. You owe me that, you bastards. Every dirty little secret."

Taylor looks as if he wished to be at least ten feet underground and Lawson stutters something about "not possible" and what not, so Shepard leans his shoulder against the wall and folds his arms on his chest. "Really, what's the problem, Lawson? It's not like no-one knew already that you Cerberus guys take pleasure in drowning kittens, and I'm sure that you have plenty of _inconsequential _staff that can be thrown under the bus for the sake of the greater good, so what harm can come from letting her have the files? Isn't it just a small sacrifice for the success of the mission?"

He receives a murderous look before Lawson finally regains composure and nods stiffly. "I will prepare the files and access codes for her."

Jack bares her teeth in a feral grin, and Shepard briefly wonders what her personal score with Cerberus is… or what else there might be to find out. In a rush of adrenaline, he hears himself say: "Oh, and while you are at it, get me a copy, as well. I want me some fancy reading for beddy time, now that we're all buddy-buddy and such. You know what I want."

Lawson nods, stiffly and sharply, and the convict glances at him, her eyes narrowed, while Shepard deflects both their looks with a poker face.

One thing is certain: if he ever lives to carry out his reckoning with Cerberus, one hell of a biotic with a common grudge might come handy, provided that she doesn't blow the ship or herself first.


	3. In Your Face

"Hey."

She stops with a snarl: there is nothing she wishes more than to find a safe dark corner and hit the sack, if safety can be had on a Cerberus ship.

His Fucking Awesomeness Commander Shepard catches up with her. "Just one thing. I want you to go for a check-up to the medbay –"

"The _fuck_ I'm going to let some Cerberus scum get his paws on me!"

Shepard inhales. "Doctor Chakwas is with _me_, not with Cerberus," he says softly, and pointedly.

She gives him a _look_ – _fat difference, fucker_ – and jerks her shoulder. "Fuck, I said _no_." Turning on her heel, she starts away from him – and she stumbles into a muscular arm that has blocked her way out of nowhere, and the fucking bastard is suddenly _looming_ above her.

"I'll say this just once," he says, in a tone that makes her want to cringe. "First, Doctor Chakwas is my friend and you will treat her with respect. Second, the moment you are on my team, I must be sure that you are in top shape, which you are clearly not, after universe knows how long in cryo stasis, with unhealed bruises. Third, when I say 'jump', you ask 'how high', or I'm dumping you on the first habitable word we fly by, I won't have in my team anyone who has problems following my orders. "

She stands there, blinking at him, for several seconds, before she manages to master herself. She sneers into his face. "Well, you still haven't given me those files, so I'm _not_ on your team yet, sweetheart."

He slightly raises his eyebrows. "Fair enough. But the moment I give you these, you go to the medlab, even if I am to kick your ass out of bed."

"Whatever," she retorts, and with a slight hesitation, he lets her go.

"Dick," she mutters, not really caring if he hears her or not, and carries on, a bit surprised that he noticed the bruises under the tattoos at all.


	4. Payments, Interests

**Payments, Interests**

He takes care to be heard when approaching but perhaps unnecessarily: the metallic catwalks resonate with even the slightest step. The underbelly of the engineering simply wasn't designed for stealth access.

Even so, as he gets near the hideout among the crates, he announces himself aloud, just in case: "Jack? That's me, Shepard. I'm bringing you the data and some stuff you might need."

A sleek shadow emerges with feline grace, her eyes glistening in the dim light. Yet she makes no move as he arranges his load on the nearest crate. "You've got here an omnitool with both intranet and extranet access, some protein bars and energy drinks, hygiene stuff and clothes – all logoed, I'm afraid, but you will have a chance to get yourself something more to your liking as soon as we hit some civilisation. You've got a credit chit there, as well, with enough for the basics. If you need something more expensive, you tell me. As for the weapons and battle gear, we'll equip you."

An impatient gesture and a snort. "Yeah, whatever. Now, my payment."

"There. The datapads."

There is a considerable stock of them, and her eyes gleam at the sight. When he puts his hand over them, she snarls. "Don't try to screw with me," she warns him in a low voice.

Shepard remains unaffected. "You'll have plenty of time to read them after you get back from the medbay. You're to report there as soon as you get the data, remember?"

"Fuck you," she mutters but without the previous edge. Watching him, she reaches for an energy bar. "Your doctor will have to wait, I'm hungry."

"That's why I brought these. You can grab some and eat them on your way. And get a drink, as well, you must be dehydrated."

"You're gonna wipe my arse for me, as well?"

"No, but I've arranged you a solid breakfast after you're done with Doctor Chakwas. The mess hall is right next to the medbay."

Shrugging, she tears open a package and bites at the bar, then snatches a drink in the other hand. The pile of clothes remains ignored. "After you. And don't you even think of trying something."

"If I wanted to try something, I'd have had plenty of opportunity. You'd been out cold for fifteen hours. 'Been here twice, making as much noise as I could, yet you never woke up."

"That's a lie, you fucker!"

He cocks his head. "EDI? What time did Jack come on board and what time is it now?"

The blue holo materializes above the comm at the entrance, to provide the required information, and he is able to predict the convict's reaction as she realizes all the ramifications even before she voices it: "_Fuck._ Fuck you all, bastards!"

_Yep. Just don't _you_ even think of trying something._


	5. By Profession

Studying the scans, Doctor Chakwas resists the urge to rub her temples. Recent bruises, older bruises, scars from fight, scars from ruthless surgery, knitted fractures, repaired teeth, abuse, malnutrition….

Biologically, the girl is in her early twenties; mentally, her medical record suffices for a lifetime of nightmares.

Yet, with al her tattoos, arrogantly lazed poises and provocative vocabulary, Chakwas sees nothing but a girl, and to that girl, she forgives what normally would annoy her to no end.

"So? Is that all?" comes a question in a tone which Chakwas immediately recognizes as enough of a provocation to make a person snap while Jack might still claim doing nothing wrong.

"Yes," the doctor replies peacefully, "we're done for now –"

"Good," Jack mutters and starts for the door.

"Just a moment, please." Ignoring the rolled eyes, she continues: "I'll arrange with the Mess Sergeant so that your diet covers your energy demands properly –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"- as well as resupplies the nutrients and minerals which you have lost due to the cryogenic stasis. I'll also give you the medication –"

"For fuck's sake, I'm _fine_! I don't need anything from you and I won't be taking any drugs!"

"Jack. You are in pain –"

A derisive snort. "The fuck you can stop pretending to be nice, I'm not buying it!"

That pushes too far. "I'm a _doctor_," she says firmly.

The beautifully carved lips twist in a repulsive grimace. "Those were _doctors_ who did this to me," Jack indicates the scars on her neck and storms out of the medbay.

"Not everyone who practices medicine is a doctor," Chakwas says to the empty air, and after a moment, sits down heavily in her chair. Not the last time, she regrets the loss of her selection of fine brandies, in a moment like this, a sip would be welcome. Glancing at the screen with the scan results, she sighs. Adding up what Shepard has told her, the _doctors_ were most certainly Cerberus, and she has no doubt that he will arrive at the conclusion, as well.

_This won't be good._

She remembers all too well how Shepard seethed with controlled anger, back then on the first _Normandy_, when he returned from a mission with a _doctor_ in handcuffs and a deranged, scarred man in tow, who turned out to be a living ghost from the past. She remembers Shepard's medical records from the time post-Akuze, the extensive plastic surgeries as well as the period off duty due to the PTSD.

She can see the self-same anger now, carefully checked and bottled, and she knows that the crimes committed on Jack will be added to the old score, no matter what his opinion of her might be.


	6. Scores Old and New

**Scores Old And New**

_Cerberus_.

Had he _known_ right after Akuze, had he been able to put a name to the culprit, it would have eaten him alive, just like it did Toombs.

Even now, it strains his self-control to the limits. He plays the Cerberus lapdog, he flies the Cerberus ship, he talks and listens to his Cerberus crew, eats the Cerberus food, sleeps in Cerberus bed, breathes Cerberus air – and that all under the constant supervision of Cerberus eyes and ears.

Even talking to Joker or Chakwas or Garrus brings only a temporary relief and leaves a bitter aftertaste, as they are _all_ here because of _Cerberus_, trapped in the same web of loyalty to the cause like himself – or even worse, trapped by the loyalty to _him_.

Curiously, it is the new people on the team whom he finds easiest to talk to – or perhaps, logically, as they provide the biggest challenge, the biggest _distraction_: Zaeed, Kasumi, Mordin… the most recent addition, Jack.

_Jack_. _It would have eaten me alive, just like it did her._

He presumed that getting her talk about herself would be the most difficult but he was quickly proved wrong – the bitterness, the anger, the _hatred_ that she is brimming over with are more than willing to find an outlet. He listens to her raving about revenge on Cerberus, not sure what makes him more horrified – what was done to her, or what has become of her – and all he can see is the image of a little girl, tied to a laboratory table, waiting to be dissected like a scared bunny.

Only later, when he is lying in his bed, his hand, hidden from sight under the blanket, folds the fingers into the shape of a gun.

With the image of the Illusive Man's smug little smile before his eyes, he slowly pulls the trigger.


	7. Hooks Attached

She thought that she would be required to do her share of killing, now and then, and study the files meanwhile, so that she could find her way out of the shit as soon as she can.

Instead, the fucking bastard keeps her occupied.

Working out in the gym makes sense; she did get weak in prison and cryo, and being weak is what she definitely cannot afford. What totally pisses her off, though, is the training. They spar in the cargo bay, they shoot in low and high gravity, with and without hardsuits, they defend and attack positions in simulated fights.

Sometimes she's on her own, sometimes paired with someone – and each and every time, while enjoying the adrenaline, she is more and more pissed, until she finds herself an outlet.

"Fuck, not again!"

Jack, a bit out of breath and still gloating with satisfaction, rolls her eyes at Shepard's fretting. "Yeah, yeah, was off the target, sorry."

He exhales before he dismisses everyone else and turns back to her. "_Teamwork_. Which part of it is so hard to understand?"

"Don't get so fucking excited, Shepard, I'm not stupid."

"Then stop acting as if you were! I know that Lawson is annoying like hell, but in a fight, she's a killing machine. You cover her back, she covers yours, or the fuckers get you _both_ – or worse, they get someone else!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Jack mutters. "Bad Jack won't send the Cerberus bitch flying again."

"_Much_ appreciated."

That's when her moment comes. She smiles sweetly. "Don't say you didn't enjoy seeing the cheerleader flying arse-first."

His exasperated sigh makes her laugh so much that her sides hurt.


	8. All There Is To It

The familiar excitement is pulsing in her veins: adrenaline and endorphins, the thrill of the kill, the way she has been trained.

_Exertion and pain do not matter._

Only, this is taking too long: the fucking mercs are putting up a resistance and she is getting pissed with the rockets exploding all around, blinding and deafening her. Cursing, she straightens to shockwave the two most annoying Blue Suns heavy but afterwards dives for cover a moment too late. She gets a direct hit and her barrier fades; disoriented, she stumbles, the gun falls from her fingers.

_Fuck._

Muffled like through a blanket, she hears Shepard yell, "Cover me!", and has only the time to think that it's _her_, not the fucker, who needs cover, but then he is right there, and it is his barrier that takes the next hit while the two of them roll into safety.

"Stay put," he orders, as if she could do more than lie and gasp after he has rolled over her in that fucking armour of his, but when he starts fussing with diagnostics on his omnitool, she smacks his hand aside.

"I'm alright," she snarls, "just take off that fucking plating the next time you want to tumble."

She doesn't see his expression through the visor but he nods and heads for the next cover while the Blue Suns' fire is notably weaker, and she cannot miss how the armour highlights his figure.

_And the merc's and the turian's and even the Cerberus boy's. Next time I guess I'll find the _salarian_ hot, as well._

It's just the hots she always gets in the fight due to the Cerberus conditioning, nothing special.

Tearing open an energy drink, she wipes her bleeding nose and summons the dark energy to smash another mercenary.

_Adrenaline and endorphins. Kill or be killed. _

She is an asset to the team. She won't be killed as long as that is true, there's no more to Shepard's boyscouting than that. He's done it for others as well, after all.

_Kill, kill, kill_. There's no more to it than that, that's what everyone has always wanted.


	9. All the Measures

"Fucking. No. Way!"

The Cerberus boy Jacob facepalms and boyscout Shepard looks much like he wants to, as well. "Of course you could have a standard issue hardsuit, if only, as you pointed out, you weren't keeping frying those electronic circuits with your biotics. That's why you're getting a non-standard, and if I am to spend thousands of credits on the best blend of asari and quarian technology, I want to make sure it damned _fits._ To make it fit, we need to –"

"– get me stripped and measure my cunt!" Baring her teeth, Jack plants her hands on her hips. "So why don't you just say it, huh, Shepard? You want to see my cunt?"

The fucking bastard doesn't even bat a lash. "Point taken. If I ever want to see your cunt, I just say so. Now, could we proceed with the measurements? I presume you wouldn't want Lawson around but the scan is easy to operate. I'll arrange Doctor Chakwas –"

The sight of him getting flushed and gaping in the middle of the sentence is totally worth it as she rips off her T-shirt and starts peeling off the pants.

Jacob's dark skin turns a few shades darker. "I, uh, will fetch some spare parts," he stutters and leaves so quickly as if hell was to break lose.

Shepard, however, does none of the kind. Before she is done with the panties, he looks quite normal again, and he nods towards the console. "Stand over there with your legs apart."

Annoyed, she obeys, and when the procedure ends, she comes to stand right in front of him. "So? You liked what you saw?"

"Nice tattoos there," he replies absent-mindedly, studying the parameters. "That's all, thank you."

"That's not about 'nice', idiot," she growls, fuming. She shambles on her clothes, but only when storming through the corridor she realizes that she failed to notice whether he was hiding his crotch behind the console deliberately or not.


	10. Made By Cerberus, Inc

Requesting the Cerberus files just for the sake of riling Lawson was a mistake; he's had enough on his plate even without reviving the old nightmares. Yet, he delves into the files with masochistic fascination: it's not like he'd be ever able to forget, anyway. Even without the files, the thoughts of Akuze are never far these days, and no matter how much he tries to rationalize his position, the old anger keeps welling within. There are moments when the very sight of the Cerberus logo nearly drives him over the edge; there are moments when he talks to his oh-so-honest in their conviction crew and wonders how far _they_ might be willing to go to achieve their goals. The hero worship in their eyes makes it all just worse: he cannot slip, not once, cannot let them know, he has to keep the night of gunfire and mortal screams all to himself.

Sometimes, he feels as if a wall that was holding all memories back burst through: of late, he finds himself returning in his thoughts further and further into the past, pre-Akuze.

And weird as it is, he finds himself remembering fondly, with the pain somewhat dulled while the faces and scenes stand out more clearly against the flow of time. The service on the SSV _Warsaw_, the pranks with Toshio and Yelena, the dear old pals…

Toshio with his impish grin, and Yelochka of big brown eyes, her biotic flares never far and always ready for mischief.

The memories of his old biotic flame inevitably steer his thoughts towards the only biotic currently present and Shepard wonders if just a single once in her life, Jack has ever used her powers for anything else but killing.

Then, with a chuckle, he remembers the incident with Lawson during a training session: _a totally Yela thing to do_.

_Carefully, Shepard. She is no Yela, she is a killer, brought to perfection by Cerberus –_

He inhales sharply, digging his nails into his palms. He looks into the mirror and his artificial eyes look back as he finishes the thought:

_- just like myself._

* * *

**_A/N_**_: I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, alerted and faved. As there are a lot of new readers hopping on board, I'd like to point you to some other works of mine which are related and might be referenced - though you are, of course, most welcome to read everything :-)_

_Shepard's pre-Akuze life is featured in chapters 2 and 3 of **Unmemorabilia**, and be warned, this is a collection of stories where he doesn't exactly shine._

_The events of Akuze are told in detail in **Long Days, Long Nights**, and the debriefing that followed is chapter 4 of the Anderson collection **Between the Past and the Future**. His convalescence after Akuze is chapter 4 of **Unmemorabilia** and a catharsis of sorts will be a stand-alone story **A Measure of**_** Things**, _but I'm afraid this plot bunny is still running free for the time being._

_Shepard's first experience with Cerberus aka his revival and roots of his dislike of Miranda are set in chapter 1 of **Unmemorabilia** and further played on in **Detrimental to the Mission**, on a somewhat humorous note.  
_

_- Oh, and you all rock, haven't I said so? :-)_


	11. A Blues in Black and Blue

The thing looks black, almost like leather, but when Jack activates the energy source, it gains sheen of deep petroleum blue. It hugs her form tightly but doesn't restrain her in the least – in fact, she barely feels it, as if it was just second skin, and she finally comes to understand why Shepard and Taylor rolled their eyes when talking about standard issue hardsuits.

"You like it?"

"Fuck, yeah," she mutters absent-mindedly, turning and twisting to get a better glimpse of herself. _Little wonder those blue bitches love their commando leathers so much…_

The exchange of grins between the two men snaps her out of the reverie. She narrows her eyes. "What'ye laughing at, you two dickheads?"

The Cerberus boy looks as if he has downed something nasty but Shepard merely cocks his head. "Looks like you could use a mirror," he assesses. "Since we don't have one –" Pointing his omnitool, he activates visualisation, and Jack can finally appreciate how fucking _awesome_ the thing looks on her, the clear outlines, the blue sheen; _unmarred, unscarred surface…untattooed_…

"You can customize the looks further if you wish," Taylor tries to make up for his blunder, "in this quality class, the chameleon module goes without saying…"

"No, it's…" She jerks her head to drive away the inappropriate thought how _pristine_ she looks in it: _damn_, it's _tight_, outlining tits and arse, so how come she's getting those weird feels? Resorting to aggression, the way she always does when unable to deal with the knot of her emotions, she snorts: "Maybe later. It's kinda _boring_, you know. But I'll bother only after I make sure this shit won't get fried just like the ones I had before."

"It won't. It's designed for asari matriarchs. Your biotics are impressive for a human but not surpassing theirs."

Under her scowl, Taylor almost makes a step back but is saved by Shepard's intervention: "Well, if it turns out that you can heat up more than the asari, we'll simply get you a better model. I'm sure that the Illusive Man won't mind flushing some more credits down the toilet."

"Some more hundreds thousands credits," Taylor mutters and Jack sneers at that, her mood immediately improved. If she could make away with the data _and_ this baby of a hardsuit…

"To the Illusive Man's endless credit chit," she imitates a toast. _Before I rip his head off and stuff it up his arse._ _Slowly_. "So, guys, now that I have a fancy suit, how 'bout some gun to go with, huh?"

Shepard produces a rather self-confident smile and reaches for something lying on the workbench. "An M-6 Carnifex. Customized specifically for your hand. All you need now is some testing ground."

She laughs, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. She nods at him with the gun. "Love this attitude of yours. In the end, we'll get on splendidly, you'll see."

Somehow, she sounds less sarcastic than she intended.


	12. The Right Person for the Job

**The Right Person for the Job**

Behind the glass pane, floating in some liquid, the krogan seems oblivious of his surrounding.

Slowly, she reaches her hand, touching the cold, smooth surface, wondering what might feel, or think, or know.

_Would it have been better if Cerberus just kept me in the tank and kicked me out one day? Would it –"_

When the door hisses behind her, she turns, startled, as if she had done a thing.

Of course, it's Shepard, who else.

She plants her hands in her sides. "You spying on me or what?"

"'Was looking for you, actually," he retorts, unperturbed, "need a hand."

_Huh? _"What with?"

He jerks his head towards the krogan in the tank. "I'm going to wake him. There's no telling what mental shape he would be in, and I don't want a berserk krogan of unknown potential on my hands without a backup. If need be, you paint the wall with him, but only on my signal, is that clear?"

She snorts. "You think I'm stupid? You want me to splash him, fine, you want to play a hero, your problem."

He nods, satisfied. "Attagirl."

She takes her position by the door and, unnoticed, boredly observes how the krogan is totally oblivious of the gun pointed at his belly until Shepard tells him about it. She might as well stand there with a thumb in her arse, big difference.

As they leave, and Shepard is rubbing his neck and shoulders, she asks: "Why didn't you rather take the cheerleader along? Or the boy Jacob? They'd piss their pants if you asked them to assist."

He doesn't look at her. "They're too engaged. They would freak out that I might get killed, and interfere. That's what happened the last time I had to deal with an angry krogan."

_Whereas I don't give a fuck. Right. That's the way it should be. _"What happened to the krogan?"

He sighs. "Got shot in the back and coup-de-graced before I could say a word."

"Better to shoot _them_ in the back before they shoot _you._"

The look he gives her, as if he might have a problem with shooting someone in the back, makes her feel safer on the ship, by approximately one thousandth point.


	13. Knocked Out

**Knocked Out**

The punching bag yields to yet another blow, the impact straining uncomfortably the barely healed shoulder but Shepard ignores it: the shoulder will work tomorrow, and he has to sleep.

Troubled sleep has always been an issue, and of late, he has been dreaming excessively: of the Prothean destruction, the long cold fall with his lungs burning, and inevitably, the old nightmares of Akuze. He is not sure whether it's a result of some brain trauma, or imperfect personality reconstruction, or simply a logical outcome of the shit he's been thrown into, he just knows that there is not a single soul on the whole Normandy whom he can tell, because it would be as if he was confiding to the Illusive Man himself. And so he spars and runs on the treadmill and does his best to work himself to physical exhaustion in the evenings, to grab a few hours of sleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

In daytime, he is looking for inconspicuous ways to unwind, constantly feeling how close he is to losing a grip of himself. The orderly structure of the military life might have been of help but with the Cerberus imitation, there is a void constantly crumbling his walls. At times, he feels as if gyrating back towards the younger, more careless Connor Shepard of the pre-Akuze days… at times, he realizes that he no longer gives a fuck to things which used to matter.

On such occasions, he finds relief in talking to the single person who doesn't give a fuck to anything – the single person who doesn't want or expect anything from him, and the freedom of being just _himself_ in her presence is what he needs to be able to carry on.

It works fine only so long until he realizes how much it actually irritates him that Jack wants or expects nothing from him – or that she keeps expecting him to stab her in the back, just like everyone else has in her life. It is a painful realisation, as well as the one he knew all along: the freedom was just an illusion.

So, working out it is again and the punching bag receives yet another well-aimed blow… but Shepard feels as if it's him who is losing.


	14. Poster Boy Reexamined

_The First Human Spectre_. _A Great Leap For Humankind_. _Commander Shepard: Faster, Higher, Stronger_. _Per Asperam ad Astram: The Hero of the Citadel_. And so on. Tons of Shepard's photos and vids: in the navy blues, in the fatigues, in the N7 armour, looking crisp and grim and professional.

_The fucking PR bullshit._

Practically all the photos show Shepard half-face because neither full face nor his profile are exactly those of a poster boy, and from the right because that big scar he used to have on the left cheek was fucking _not likeable_.

Jack sneers, imagining the reporters' frustration as they were trying to get the angle right to make Shepard look more appealing, and even so he was nothing to phone home about. _Might have gone better if they got a shot of him in the nude but with military guys, good musculature is not exactly hard to come by, you can shit twelve such in a dozen._

Snorting, she clears the data and refines the search: to figure out the man, she needs to follow those few leads she has obtained after sifting through all that exalted crap. In a few seconds, she sits back, satisfied.

In this vid, Shepard is younger; the scar is an ugly red against his pale face and his eyes are sunk in deep shadows. He speaks very little while the woman by his side – _shit, that's his _mother_? _– fends off the reporters.

Jack's finger slides over the related searches.

_A Price of Freedom. A Sole Survivor. The Massacre of Akuze: Coincidence, or Negligence? An Ordeal of Survival. A Nightmare of Akuze: A Marine Contingent Exterminated Within Hours. _

_So this is it_.

She could feel from the very beginning that he hated the fuckers, though she never knew why and didn't want to seem interested. The Cerberus connection is never mentioned in any of the articles, but by pure instinct born of hatred, she knows that it was _them_, that this is _it_, that he is one of the many whose lives the scum messed.

Sighing, Jack looks up from the omnitool. _The fact that he hates Cerberus the same as I do doesn't mean that we are on the same side… or that he can, or should, be trusted. No one can. Not even…_

She bites her lip. A nagging thought tells her that Shepard cared about his team _then_ and he seems to be caring _now_, and she is unsure what to make out of it for her safety. She has never been anyone's team before... so perhaps he might not betray her to Cerberus even if he had a chance.

But such hopes are dangerous to nourish, that she has learned the hard way.

* * *

_**A/N**: If you want to take a look at Connor Shepard, you can browse my ME folder on the deviantArt, but be warned: I'm no better than the Alliance reporters, so there are only the good shots :P_

_- Oh, and yes, the interview that Jack found is the one right after Shepard's release from hospital in_ **Unmemorabilia** **4**.


	15. Vandalism, Epic

"You did _what_?"

He knows he shouldn't laugh, there's nothing laughable about her long track of criminal record, but, universe help him, this one is hilarious..._ Toshio and Yela would have paled with envy_.

And Jack looks at him, her teeth shining in a _smile_, not a sneer, for once. "I made a fucking new impact crater," she repeats. "I sure didn't know the hanar loved that moon of theirs so much… Not that I give a fuck, but, hey, here you go, vandalism on the universe's scale."

Gosh, he shouldn't, shouldn't laugh at that, but there has been very little to laugh at of late, and Garrus is only slowly recuperating from the death of his team, his dry humour almost gone. And so Shepard laughs with Jack, and sees her eyes sparkle, and realizes how young she actually is…

Young and slender, of elegant, feline moves, and for once, youthful, laughing for real instead of producing the usual flow of spite and bitterness.

That laughter gives him a strange warm feeling, somewhere inside.

She leans back, taking a more relaxed position – the first time she ever does so. "So, now your turn, Shepard. Don't tell me that you've always been such a fucking boyscout and never had any fun."

He hesitates, because there are certainly moments which he doesn't want to confide to _anyone_ but she is right, he ought to reciprocate. So, he gives her a slightly polished version of some events of his early career, and she laughs so hard that her eyes get teary.

"You did _what_?" she repeats, wiping her eyes, and so he provides details, to hear her laugh some more.

In a moment like this, he might almost see the girl instead of a jaded criminal, but he feels too good, for once, to dwell on _might-have-been_ or _should_ and _shouldn't, _and enjoys the moment of illusion while he can.

* * *

_**A/N**: No, he's not telling her the incident of the New Year's Eve. Ever._


	16. A Way of Handling

_**A/N**: Posting a bit earlier as a birthday present for Reyavie. Happy birthday, dear, and hopefully, enjoy!_

* * *

Shepard slowly exhales: the young tank-bred krogan can be a true challenge to patience. _And not just him_. "Yes, Grunt? What is it?" _This time?_

"The female. Jack. She is a good warrior but her behaviour is baffling. Does she want to breed with me?"

_Ah. That._

As soon as she became more comfortable on the team, which took no more than a couple of fights, both simulated and real, Jack has started with sexual innuendo towards the males – most of it directed at himself and Massani and even the aliens, whereas Taylor barely got a honourable mention now and then. Remembering Garrus' expression the first time he realized what the talk of popping thermal clips actually meant, Shepard still nearly bends over with laughter – Mordin handled his adressation way more gracefully, while Grunt simply seemed oblivious.

_A wrong estimate, it seems_.

"I must know, Battlemaster," Grunt insists now. "Is she offering to breed with me as a recognition of my battle prowess? Only the worthy ones are allowed to breed. But tank memories speak only of the asari capable of cross-species breeding."

"That is true. But as for non-breeding purposes, anything is possible, I guess."

"Har. Mating not for breeding? Not such an honour. Perhaps merely a recognition without a true intent at fulfilling."

_More true than you know, and definitely not for the reason that you think, either._ "I presume that your assessment is mostly correct. It was certainly not meant as an invitation to sex." _Though with Jack, one can never be sure_.

Another deep rumble. "I thought so. I'm not stupid. But then I have another question, Battlemaster. She is your species, so with you, is she only acknowledging your worth, as well, or does she truly intend to mate with you?"

Carefully keeping his face under control, Shepard briefly wonders whether the prospect is scary, or actually very appealing. "That is up to her to decide."

The krogan harrumphs in satisfaction: such an answer fits with his tank-learned worldview. Then, however, _another_ question starts forming behind his reptilian forehead. His eyes narrow.

Shepard didn't get where he is by waiting to be pinned down. He shifts his stance to appear frightening by krogan standards. "It is not your place to ask your Battlemaster about his mating preferences, Grunt."

He maintains the posture until Grunt signals deference, and only then allows himself to ponder the prospect before firmly putting it aside. _Things are messed enough as they are. No need to contribute with further personal issues._

Though he does have to admit that under other circumstances, he might be inclined towards finding the idea of… _mating_ with Jack… appealing.


	17. All That Remains

That thing before her which explodes in a splash of dark ichor used to be female, and the likes of her keep coming in new and new waves, their empty shells intent only on clawing at flesh while their eyes glow with lifeless blue light.

They are all coming at her, men, women, children.

Even through the haze of adrenaline and endorphins, Jack feels horror coiling deep within, the echoes of her screams from the past reverberating in the guttural growls of what used to be living people.

_This is… this is… _

"This is almost as bad as what Cerberus did to me," she mutters for herself, not realizing that she is speaking aloud until Shepard briefly turns to her as they fight their way through the colony.

"You _live_," he retorts and then moves forward, to the cover of the next living unit, empty like those before, with the personal possessions abandoned as the life was snatched away.

Looking at the erratic movements of the husks, driven by a force other than their will, she feels her throat tighten. "They don't have memories," she says aloud in a thin voice, as if to convince herself.

Wiping the gore from her visor, she follows Shepard in his blue and black armour. Right behind the corner, there is another group of immobilized colonists, and a set of the alien pods waiting for the helpless victims, to be transferred for… for…

She knows all damn too well that Shepard is right and that this is _worse_.

It is worse… and it has to be stopped. Somehow. Anyhow. _Now_.


	18. The Ways of Fight

"_Your form is fragile. I will destroy you."_

"See who's talking here!" The glowing Collector is shredded by Jack's biotic field and the one next to it starts to glow, _again_.

"_You will know pain."_

"Yeah, big news, fucker, but you first! Here goes something to shut you up!"

"_Your destruction is…"_

"Shut the fuck up!"

Unlike Jack, Shepard doesn't let his annoyance with the Reaper trashtalk show. With precise, efficient moves, he reloads another thermal clip and aims a shot by shot, never letting himself be pinned or cornered.

The last glowing Collector turns to ashes under their concentrated attack. In the momentary respite, Shepard takes the luxury to nod to Jack with his gun: "Killing those bastards wouldn't be half as annoying if they shut up for at least a second, right?"

He can see her grin through her gory visor. "You bet! But I don't think that our form is destruction is _quite_ that fucking primitive!"

"Yeah, but it never hurts to pick up some new tricks on the roads." He snatches the nearest Collector's gun: it's unexpectedly heavy but the controls are easy to operate and the gun emits that destructive beam which he has seen today _ad nauseam_. And since they cannot proceed very fast, anyway… "Hey, Grunt, Massani, Taylor, the chief bugger said we ain't got enough fire power – go get yourself these _upgrades_."

Unasked, Jack also picks one, only to drop it again with a curse. "Ugh, a heavy bitch. – But I do love the way you think, Shepard, we'll kick their arses 'cause we're a fucking good team!"

_A team_. He'd never have expected her to say so. Suddenly, their prospects seem somewhat brighter for that.


	19. Innovative

The fucking bug. Just. Won't. Die.

What's worse, it's hot on Shepard's fucking heels. It's not awfully fast but Shepard is nowhere next to his usual speed, either, having taken some shots – they all have, as the defence of those fucking AAA towers, with the Collector forces swarming in from all sides, is a fucking _nightmare._

Jack rips through a group of incoming husks and sends another shockwave to clear Shepard's retreat route. She sniffs, irritated: while the hardsuit's systems deal with sweat, she can't wipe her nose, bleeding from exertion of her biotics, and cannot remove the helmet because of the seeker swarms.

_If I could at least smash the fucker..._

But the monstrous flying bug has equally monstrous shields, and her biotics is put to better use cleaning the area of the Collectors and husks.

_You just have to outrun it, boyscout, while the guys keep whittling it down with heavy guns._

_Fucking tough ugly bastard._

Then, however, as its energy beam hits the heap of crates next to Shepard, something unexpectedly explodes in there. "_Shepard!_" she can hear several voices yell simultaneously on the comm, as he remains lying in the open, stunned and exposed – not dead, she can see him move faintly, but too far from any help or cover.

She can hear Grunt roar, as he and Taylor jump out of their respective covers, trying to detract the bug thing, firing at it like mad from the powerful Collector guns. Its shields finally fade away – fat good it does, though, as the bug simply ignores the damage, intent on roasting Shepard alive at any cost, and so she casts a barrier, the strongest she can, at such a distance –

The fucking _thing_ evaporates it with a single blast and Shepard rolls away, but too slowly and she hears him scream.

_Fuck…_

There is but one other thing that she can do.

As the bug thing aims its blast to fry Shepard for good, she _pulls_ with all her might.

The way the bug's carapace opens as the joint fire of the whole squad finally obliterates it from the world, looks much like a dropped jaw.

Of course, she has overdone it, and Shepard hits the wall with a thud and a groan as he slumps down, but before she can get to him, he is slowly rising, feeling his ribs. She helps him to remove the partly molten helmet and he spits out some blood, but then he grins at her. "Innovative… use. Can't say I… don't appreciate the flight."

"Of course you do, dumbass," she says, feeling all of a sudden like crying. "Of course you do."


	20. The Ways of the World

_Well, that much for gratitude. Saving half the fucking colony is not enough_.

And, the Alliance bitch yelling at Shepard because of the cooperation with Cerberus really tops it all. Jack's hands just itch to deliver a good haymaker but before she can act on it, Shepard shuts the bitch up alright – "_getting wrexed", huh? _– and not a moment too soon. With all the Cerberus talk, Jack actually expects the colonists to stop counting their losses and attack _them_ instead.

_Hey, at least the retreat to the shuttle might have been a bit more _fun_._

Jack bares her teeth. Despite the countless energy drinks and protein bars which she has downed, she feels totally depleted but something in the way Shepard limps ahead still makes her want to blow something yet again. _Many_ somethings, in fact.

All of a sudden, he stops, and she can see him fumble with the medigel injector once again. "Garrus…" he says in a tense voice, "I need a shoulder…"

The turian, scorched and gored like every single one of them, quickly makes to Shepard's side, right past the Cerberus boy Jacob who looks perfectly willing to lend a hand, if only asked, but steps back as he gets the message.

Others are more thick-headed.

As soon as they reach the shuttle, with Garrus supporting Shepard and basically carrying him inside, the Cerberus bitch grabs the medkit and apparently intends to save the day.

_Like hell. _

Jack steps in her way so quickly that they nearly knock their noses, and grabs the kit from her hand. "You've got some work here, Doc," she tosses it to Mordin, who has just entered the shuttle.

The cheerleader looks like she's about to throw a hissy fit but, to Jack's disappointment, turns on her heel and goes to sit next to the pilot's chair instead.

As they take off, Jack glimpses Shepard's face over Garrus' shoulder, and she is almost sure that he mouthed at her a 'thank you'.


	21. A Debt Unpaid

Being the only whose state requires an overnight stay in the medbay due to extensive blood loss definitely sucks: Shepard is confined to bed with next to no distraction, and Chakwas gnarled at him so badly that he had no other choice but comply. When he hears the door open, he thinks that it's her, about to give him a Talk for finding him shuffling with a PDA instead of sleeping.

The person entering, though, is _Jack_.

He cannot recall her visiting any part of the ship voluntarily before.

"Hey," she says, rather uncertainly as she stalks over to his bed. "You still look a bit... fried," she indicates the burns on his right cheek and shoulder, symmetrically with where the scars of Akuze used to be on the left side.

"Had worse, but I guess I'd be fried completely if not for you. I don't think I've thanked you properly for that yet, have I?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess that makes us even, though it's not like I'm keeping scores…" A nervous gesture. "But, hey, I wanted to tell you… it's… fuck, you were right and the Alliance bitch was wrong… uh, that friend of yours, I mean." She runs her hands over her scalp. "Fuck, I'd never thought I'd be saying this… if Cerberus is what it takes to stop the Collectors, then Cerberus it is and fuck the bastards later, and if she doesn't see it, she needs to get her head out of her arse."

Jack is standing there, breathing hard but her eyes do not flinch, and she probably doesn't realize that she has just twisted the blade in the wound. It is not her fault, though, and if not for Ash, he would have been high-fiving for hearing her say this, and so he musters an answer: "Thank you, Jack. It means a lot to me."

He's underestimated her. "You still look like someone kicked your puppy."

"Ash is a friend, we've been through a lot. I guess I hoped for more… trust. And what she said…" his voice trails off as he feels his bile rise again.

"She has shit between her ears," Jack offers helpfully.

He _hates_ what he is going to say. "In a way, she was right. It's not me any more… Cerberus changed me." Seeing her frown, uncomprehending, he says slowly: "They didn't only reconstruct me, they _rebuilt_ me. I'm faster, stronger… I can take more and I heal more quickly. I… I probably wouldn't have made it today if not for their improvements."

Slowly, very slowly, Jack walks over to his bed and with a slight hesitation, sits on its edge. "It sucks," she says softly, "knowing that you are what you are owing to _them_." Her eyes gain a distant, pained look for a moment, before they grow hard again and she gives him a feral grin. "The only thing you can do is to carve _thank you_ into the bullet that you will put through their fucking head. At least that's what I keep telling myself."


	22. The Ways of Leadership

"_And, Shepard, by the way, how did you make Cerberus get you a uniform without that fucking logo?"_

"_They didn't. I did."_

"_What, you picked up tailoring?"_

"_De-tailoring."_

"_De-Lawsoning would be even better."_

"_Well, in a way, I did just that. – You know, the first time I opened the closet in my cabin and found out that every single piece was logoed, I was pretty pissed. I had agreed to work with them, not become one of them, so I wanted to send a message. Not wearing a uniform would be bad for the morals of the crew, though. So, I placed a call with Lawson and complained that my quarters lacked a manicure set. Turned out, there was none spare to be had and I insisted that I absolutely needed one immediately, so she lent me hers. – Hey, don't choke yourself, you want to hear the rest of it, right? – So, when I was done with the job – and it took me a couple of hours, all those fucking tiny stitches on every single item – I returned it with polite thanks, and at first she failed to notice what I had done. She realized only the next day, and turned red like a pomegranate."_

"_Pfft. Lame. Gardner nearly shitted his pants when I asked him for a knife."_

"_Must be that big friendly smile you're wearing. Loved those holes you made on your shoulders, though. Nice symmetry."_

Listening to the 28-nC6 the bug from the engineering, Miranda Lawson is red like a pomegranate even now. She hates to be reminded of mistakes, especially if they are part of a greater-scale failure. She is unused to failures. She cannot fail.

She _knew_ Shepard, or so she thought, from the two years spent reconstructing him. She read everything there was on him in the extensive Cerberus files. She knew his history, his psychological profile, his biology, his…

Apparently, to know does not equal to understand.

She _knew_ of Akuze. She _knew_ of his doggedness when put to a task. She assumed that his sense of duty is strong enough to overcome his grudge against Cerberus. She was not wrong in this, yet she was not right, either.

She never expected that he would work with them, commit himself to the task without holding anything back – and _hate_ them with every fibre of his being.

_As long as the mission succeeds_, she rebukes herself, _anything –_

Another burst of hearty laughter makes her grit her teeth. _Anything… but…_

She never expected this buddy-buddying with Subject Zero, either. Commiserate, yes – but, the woman is a _criminal._ A _psycho_. _And annoying like hell. And yet –_

With an aggressive dab of her finger she quits the transmission and snorts aloud. She doesn't _understand_ people the way Shepard does, that's why he leads the mission instead of her. Yet, Mr Awesome apparently doesn't _know_ when he is thinking with his dick.


	23. All It Takes, Or Not

"Massani is pissed with you all right," Jack remarks, sitting leisurely with her feet on a crate.

"That is mutual," Shepard growls; the Zorya incident still burning fresh in his mind. He still feels an itch in his hand to pull the trigger… or at least arrange for Zaeed to get one more scar, for symmetry's sake.

"You're such a fucking boy scout," Jack remarks with practically zero venom, but he can still hear the people dying in flames and fails to assess her tone correctly.

"I thought that _you_, of all people, would understand what it means to treat others like some trash that got in the way! Or, do you think, because you were harmed, it gives you some right to treat others like Cerberus treated you?!"

With a loud stomp, she puts her feet down and leans forward, baring her teeth. "Don't you _dare_ to compare me to them! You have no fucking idea –"

"No fucking idea? Fifty men – _fifty!_ – under my command died horribly because Cerberus fancied experimenting with thresher maws, so stop feeding me such bullshit! If you'd do the same as what Massani did to get your revenge, you'd be no better than them!"

Breathing hard, Shepard finds himself leaning forward, as well, looking at Jack, eye to eye in close proximity: _never lose eye contact with a predator_.

The next moment, though, her eyes swerve and she pulls away abruptly. "Screw you, Shepard. Screw you," she mutters desperately. She folds her arms across her chest – no, she embraces herself. "You have no idea what it does to you when someone messes with you like that," she says, almost as if pleading.

Cautiously, he also straightens, feeling utterly spent. "I do. I had no idea that it was staged… I thought that it was somehow my fault, that I'd failed them. I nearly lost my mind."

Shepard sees her swallow hard and her eyes focus past him, her brows creasing. Alarmed suddenly that he might have screwed up irreparably, he raises his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry."

She barely moves her head in recognition, obviously lost in some inner struggle, and so he looks for a way to dissipate the tension. "Have you… found anything in those files yet?"

She jerks her shoulders but does deign to answer. "Some clues… nothing definite so far." A long pause. "You?"

"Nothing I didn't know before."

Her eyes briefly flicker over him and he takes a breath. "How about we… cross-reference?"

Jack turns her head sharply at that, narrowing her eyes, but then activates her omnitool. "Deal. I'll send you what I've found, and you send me your names. And now, get out. I need… just get out."

"Jack…"

"I said, piss off for now!"

"All right," he complies, fearing he might be pushing too far if he stayed, "see you tomorrow."

He is immensely relieved, receiving a small nod as a confirmation, and worried by how broken her voice had sounded.

* * *

**A/N:** _Big thanks to Suilven for betaing and support!_


	24. The Way To Please A Girl

'_You seen this file?'_

Jack frowns at the omnitool: _the fuck? Since when are we corresponding? _Then it dawns on her and she smirks as she types: '_What, afraid that you might get your ass fried if you turn up down here?'_

"Should I?" comes the answer almost immediately after she sends the message, from somewhere above. The catwalks resonate with Shepard's steps as he casually walks out from behind the corner.

Jack snorts but doesn't answer and basically ignores him until he descends.

"What, still pissed with me?" he asks, approaching.

"You bet," she growls, feeling her throat tighten. It cut deep, what he had said; deeper than she would have thought, and not because he'd said it but because it was the ugly fucking truth.

It doesn't mean that she has to concede the fucker a point just like that. "Watch your mouth next time."

"I'm not going to apologize for what I said," Shepard says gravely, and before she can tell him to shove his preaching, he adds, "but I'm sorry that I hurt you."

That leaves her gaping for a few moments, feeling suddenly on the verge of tears like she'd felt the previous day. "That's a fucking lame apology," she manages, forcing her voice to sound uninterested.

Shepard cocks his head. "Yeah, I know. There _are_ a couple of things I never really mastered... So, are we good?"

_Are we?_ Suddenly, she is busy gulping. She cannot recall when, or if, anyone has ever been sorry about hurting her.

And he'd said it twice, actually.

She springs up from her seat and strides to the opposite wall, kicking the crates on her way. "You're weird," she snaps over her shoulder.

"Been told worse things. How about I make some amends?"

"Huh?"

He folds his arms across his chest. "Our Cerberus friends have screwed up again and, guess what, they need someone to mop up. Care to join me?"

The sudden rush of adrenaline makes her feel slightly dizzy with anticipation; she can feel her lips drawing back to bare her teeth. "You bet!"

When Shepard reaches his hand out to her, she slaps hers against his palm; briefly, their hands grip each other.

* * *

_**A/N**: ... and thanks go to... Suilven!_


	25. Calls and Not Calls

The medbay door barely closes behind Chakwas, transporting the sedated David Archer, and as Shepard turns to leave, Jack starts at him with all the ferocity held back during the return trip from Aite: "You should have killed that fucking doctor, Shepard! Hell, you're a killing machine, don't tell me you've suddenly become soft!"

"I'm a _soldier_," he replies, very calmly, "not a judge, and definitely not an executioner."

Jacks snorts derisively but Shepard continues, unperturbed. "Of course Archer deserves punishment, but it's _David's_ call to decide it, not mine. And it's also David's right to hear his brother's apology for what he has done to him one day. Who am I to rob him of that?"

"The guy's mental!"

"_Mental?!_" Within a split of a second, Shepard's voice switches into the tone that invariably makes the recipient jerk as if lashed. "Are you under the impression that he suffered _less_ for that?"

"The fucking bastard _deserves_ to die," she repeats heatedly, though with an underlying note of uncertainty.

Shepard doesn't relax his posture for an instant. "Not my call," he insists. "Nor yours."

Jack's eyes narrow. "And if it _was_ your call? If he was one of those fuckers who set up Akuze? Don't tell me you'd let him go!"

He has to focus on his breathing for a moment but he had anticipated this question ever since they first set their eyes on David Archer, restrained as if on a cross, intubed all over, the tears constantly spilling from the eyes propped open – a sight that will undoubtedly haunt him at nights.

_Both me and her_, he remembers that sole sobbing gasp which Jack issued, and realizes that the hard line may not be the way - but he cannot admit the urge to tear Gavin Archer into small twitching pieces, either. "I did come across one of those, once, and had the choice to pull the trigger or not," he says softly, "and I decided not to. I wanted him dead, I did, but I didn't want to become a butcher for that. It wouldn't have brought anyone back. And, I did take his life, in a way, as he'll spend the rest of it among four walls."

"You're so fucking _noble_," Jack mutters bitterly.

"Not sure if I'd know about noble. But I know I just didn't want to be like _them_."

She stares at him a little longer and then, without a word, turns on her heel and leaves, for her hideout.

Shepard would much like to call after her, stop her, but he cannot. He cannot fight this fight for her.


	26. The Rites of Passage

"This trip is much better than the previous, you know! Seems you're finally learning how to make a girl happy, Shepard!"

He growls something unintelligible in response and Jack laughs, _pulling_ a klixen before it can charge and then ripping it into pieces with her biotics. When no more come, she yells at Grunt: "Hey, mash that button again!"

"Wait, we should –"

But Grunt, enjoying his Rite of Passage as much as Jack does, has already signalled for continuation.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a deep rumbling sound, something shakes the ground below them with a series of regular vibrations, resonating through their bodies. "What the fuck?" she frowns, confused.

In response, Shepard issues a profanity that makes even her pause a little; from what she can see, Grunt is gaping no less at the normally controlled Shepard.

And then she feels it too: another sense of vibration, approaching fast.

Finally, she connects the dots while she automatically fulfils Shepard's yelled orders.

_Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. _

_A thresher maw. That might be a fucking bit more than we asked for._

She bares her teeth: _what does it matter?_ C_ome, fucker_!

The next moments are a chaos of shaking ground, soil bursting at unpredictable spots, green spittings eating at anything they touch, gunfire and Grunt's roaring, until she realizes, just as she is jumping over a crack in the platform, that the fucking thing is thrashing in death convulsions and spitting no more. At least she can get a better sight of it now: at the hard, scaly body with segmented limbs along the upper part, just under the oral cavity. "A fucking big bastard," she mutters to herself.

"Not really," comes the response just next to her. Shepard's helmet is turned away from her. "Barely twenty metres. They can be much bigger, and tougher."

He stares at the dying thresher a little longer, then abruptly turns and strides away so fast that Jack has to run to catch up. "Hey, but this is not your first since Akuze, is it?"

He pauses but for a second. "No. But this is the first time I had to kill it without an armed vehicle and preparation ahead."

With the adrenaline slowly fading from her system, Jack squirms. "But, we did kill it alright… hey, you pissed with me?"

His comm transmits a loud sigh. "I'm trying not to. But if you ever do such a thing again, your ass will be painfully sorry!"

"You wouldn't _dare_," she growls, and he barks a laughter.

On their way back, Jack thinks sullenly that she has been without a good fuck too long, to find the idea of his hand on her ass so arousing.

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed and whom I haven't replied personally as I usually do. I'm afraid the RL has caught me in the middle of issues which sort of hamper my usual functioning. I really appreciate your reviews and support but I just may fall silent every once in a while - please, bear with me until I get back to normal._


	27. Side Effects

The first time, he doesn't connect the dots, and he is certainly not so insecure as to think that his subordinates trying to subdue laughter just as he enters might be laughing at him. The second and third time this happens, though, Shepard figures out it really has to do with him and gives the offenders a famous Shepard stare, after which they all turn red like a pomegranate and look a good foot shorter. He doesn't bother to ask, knowing that the joke or gossip or whatever it might be will out sooner or later, and to spare himself the time, he heads for the bridge.

His estimate is correct, of course.

"So, Commander, how was the krogan sexy time? You know, 'fuck like a krogan', or was it 'fight'?"

"Envy is a nasty character flaw, Joker," he replies while his mind is racing. Grunt is still on Tuchanka to learn more of, uh, his people's _habits_, Jack wouldn't share gossip with the crew, Kelly wouldn't dare to give away that she reads his messages, so there is but one option.

Once in the dubious privacy of his quarters, he asks: "EDI? Did you spread the information about that mating offer I received?"

"No, Commander. My protocols prevent me from such a breach of your privacy."

For a moment, he ponders whether AIs can lie, but then it dawns on him. "Did Operative Lawson spread the information?"

The already familiar millisecond hesitation. "My blocks prevent me –"

"Alright, alright, forget I asked."

"My matrices do not allow me to forget –"

Shepard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Never mind, EDI. Never mind."

Never mind. He knows how to handle the crew to make this incident fade or even use it for his benefit.

He underestimated, however, the effect on a scientific mind.

"Shepard. Must discuss. The compatibility of krogan and human tissues allow for 1,38 percent chance of transmitting an endemic Tuchanka STD. Need to check –"

Listening in half-horror, half-disbelief, Shepard realizes how lucky he is that Mordin has no idea about certain naughty thoughts crossing his mind in connection with a certain psychotic biotic. He dreads to think what the doctor might come up with should _that_ be the case.

**A/N:**_ Thanks everyone for the support :-)_

_Also, chapter 25 is tweaked with one piece, if you want to check. And, long live the Miracle of Sound!_


	28. So What This Is About

It sucks. It totally sucks.

Sure, Shepard the fucking boy scout took care that he was diplomatic, and she just snorted at that and told him to shove it. Yeah, she's a fucking escaped criminal. Yeah, her fucking face is life-size all over the Citadel space and beyond.

_Bigger than life-size, actually,_ Kasumi informed her, chuckling, _though they do not do justice to your eyes._

_Fuck, who cares._

But this is fucking _Illium_, after all, and its law enforcement no harder than the coin that backs it.

But, yeah, the fucking boy scout _Spectre_ didn't want to _draw attention_. 'Cause, they were just going to _help out_ a friend, quietly. Which is why he took along only a small team. Which is why she had to stay on the fucking Normandy, totally bored.

_Well, at least the cheerleader didn't come along, either._

_But, boyo, _quietly…

Jack was just on her way to the mess hall when the alert for the team sounded; Jacob nearly knocked her down as he sprinted from behind the corner.

And then, with all that fuss and the second team standing ready, they weren't even needed. Shepard, Kasumi and Mordin took out a rogue Spectre all on their own, though definitely not _quietly._

Oh, not _entirely_ on their own.

And Jack is pissed.

Shepard's blue _friend_ is sitting opposite him in the mess hall, staring at him devotedly, and he is beaming like some fucking Christmas tree.

To Sergeant Gardner's apparent discomfort, Jack sits down just by his desk, to get a better view of the two while attacking a load of burgers like her mortal enemy. When the _asari_ leaves, she brusquely moves over to the emptied seat. Shepard looks at her with an expression which she identifies as amusement only when she blurts out, perhaps really predictably: "Who the fuck _is_ the blue bitch?"

"An old friend," he replies just as she _knew_ he would.

She snorts, he chuckles, she says a couple of foul words and he finally indulges her in what it is all about. Only half-listening, Jack mentally rolls her eyes. _'Friend', yeah. A wee bit more hot after you, and your clothes would burn off._

_Not that I'd mind the sight, though. Not at all._


	29. High and Low

"Ouch! Oooow…. Fuu…"

"Easy. Don't move. You've got a lump on your head the size of a krogan."

"…ck yourself, smartass," Jack mutters, carefully touching her head. Moving makes her dizzy and she presses her hand over her eyes. She is feeling slightly disoriented, as well – the whole place is a mess of broken glass and twisted metal and looks totally unfamiliar at first. _There was the storm_, she recalls_, and fighting among the lightnings. Then we got inside and swept our way through the ship, and then_… "The fucking space _troll_?"

"Dead as a dodo," Shepard replies with an uncharacteristic giggle.

Jack squints at him with effort. "You high or what?"

"High on medigel. The troll was tough. Chakwas will have my balls if she finds out how I've overdosed myself."

"I could put your balls to a better use," Jack blurts, and pauses to think what exactly she meant by that but her head hurts too much.

"You've got a concussion," Shepard informs her.

Jack frowns: _tell me something I don't know myself, dumbass_. The frown brings her eyes to focus on the red stains on his blue-and-black hardsuit and the punctures in it. "You got shot."

"Told you he was tough. Fucking tough bastard. Liara had to bring down the ceiling on him while I kept him distracted. But it was totally worth it."

"Yeah?" Jack mutters, not particularly convinced. Her head _hurts._ "Where are the others?"

"Helping Liara to mop up. The two of us invalids are taking a break."

"I'm no fucking… Helping _what?_ Why are we still here, anyway?"

Shepard giggles again. "We've taken over. The whole ship – the whole Brokership."

"Stop giggling like an idiot and start making some fucking sense," Jack growls.

Shepard laughs some more but then he gasps and feels his side. "No-one knows the Shadow Broker is dead," he explains. "We have offed his closest subordinates, and the pawns have no idea what he looked like… so Liara stepped in his shoes."

"You're fucking kidding me?" But even as she says so, she realizes that she can hear the familiar soft voice coming from somewhere to her left – and there, in front of those screens –

_Rising so fast was fucking stupid_, she realizes as all the energy bars and drinks which she has downed are leaving the wrong way.

"…said you have a concussion," she hears through the throbbing in her ears and feels Shepard's hands saving her from falling face-first into her own vomit before she blacks out.

* * *

_**A/N:**... the usual thanks to the awesome Suilven... :-)_


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